


Ain't No Friend of Mine

by RealityBetterThanFiction



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Doggy Style, Drabbles, Fluff, I have no idea where this idea came from, Larry dog parents, M/M, Mild Smut, canine antics, niall steals the show as always, shameless fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-25
Updated: 2016-09-25
Packaged: 2018-08-17 06:05:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8133119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RealityBetterThanFiction/pseuds/RealityBetterThanFiction
Summary: It was five thirty in the morning when Louis woke up to the sound of...barking? At first he thought it must be the lingering remnants of a dream, the shrill, piercing woof that kept repeating at a steady interval like some kind of deranged alarm clock. He squeezed his eyes closed, rolled over in bed, and buried his head under his pillow. But the barking didn’t stop when his dreams faded away.Woof. Woof. Woof. Woof.-----Louis stumbles upon the world’s strangest dog and decides to give it a home. A random little drabble with chewed shoes, burger stealing, muddy paws, and Larry dog parents. Oh, and Niall, of course.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [freetheankles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/freetheankles/gifts).



> For my lovely friend, Addy, who slays me with painful fic, makes me laugh with Niall imagines, and is part of my favorite Squadron in the world. Happy (late) birthday, my dear! This was supposed to be a short little drabble for Tumblr but ended up 8K. Oops!
> 
> As always, many thanks to my Beta/RIO, Liz (cuethetommo) for having my six.

It was five thirty in the morning when Louis woke up to the sound of...barking? At first he thought it must be the lingering remnants of a dream, the shrill, piercing _woof_ that kept repeating at a steady interval like some kind of deranged alarm clock. He squeezed his eyes closed, rolled over in bed, and buried his head under his pillow. But the barking didn’t stop when his dreams faded away.

 

_Woof. Woof. Woof. Woof._

 

Louis let out a growl fit for a rabid wolf when five minutes of trying to tune it out did nothing to dampen the incessant noise. There was really only one thing left to do at this point. He kicked a foot out, colliding with the shin of his bed partner.

 

“Harry. Make it stop,” he hissed.

 

Harry’s response was a loud snore and sleepy arms trying to pull Louis closer for a cuddle.

 

No. Louis did not want to cuddle. He wanted to _sleep_ . And he couldn’t do that with the fucking barking _still_ going on outside their window.

 

He kicked Harry again.

 

This time Harry kicked him back.

 

“Mmmph.”

 

“Harry.”

 

“Mmmmmmph.”

 

“There’s a dog.”

 

“Woof.”

 

“No, Harry. There’s an _actual_ dog. Outside.”

 

“Mmmph.”

 

“Great. Thanks for all the help,” Louis snapped, kicking out again before he levered himself up out of the bed to take care of the problem himself. Harry happily claimed his warm spot by immediately starfishing himself across the entirety of their bed.

 

“Bastard,” Louis muttered as he trudged through their room. “Adorable fucking bastard.”

 

It took him a solid five minutes, and multiple life-threatening near trips in the dark, to get to the front door where the racket was centered. Barefoot and messy haired in nothing but baggy sweats, Louis wrenched the door open to the sight of an all out downpour. In LA.

 

Honestly. Fuck his life.

 

Louis groaned, but the sound was lost beneath a flurry of barking, more excited now that someone was taking notice.

 

Louis squinted out into the rain and set eyes on the source of the disturbance.

 

Just outside the entrance to their Malibu mansion was a dog, sitting in the rain with its head stuck between the bars of the gate. When it spotted Louis, its arse started wiggling, tail following like a windshield wiper.

 

“What in the name of fuck?” Louis muttered.

 

With another groan, Louis realized that he had to do something. He steeled his shoulders and then set out into the cool rain to help the poor stupid mutt that had gotten itself stuck trying to pull a B&E. The second he stepped out from the awning he was soaked, and within ten feet of the dog, it was clear he wasn’t the only one.

 

The dog was completely sopping wet, blond hair matted and shaggy. It looked to be some kind of lab, from Louis’ limited experience with pets. Like the dog from _Air Bud_. Except not nearly as smart since it had gotten its head stuck in a fucking fence.

 

Louis approached it cautiously, the dog only getting more excited as he got closer, yanking its body backwards trying to get free.

 

“Okay, okay, buddy. Hang on. Hold still. You’re only going to hurt yourself, you bloody sop.”

 

The dog yipped happily as Louis reached out a hand to pat its head. He earned himself a slobbery lick to his palm.

  
“Yuck! Stop that. Sit!”

 

The dog immediately sat its arse down, mouth hanging open and tongue hanging out innocently.

 

“Well at least you have some intelligence. Although it’s still questionable considering your current predicament,” Louis said to the dog.

 

The dog let out a few barks that almost sounded like a laugh.

 

“Oh you think I’m funny, do you? Well you know what else would be funny? If I left your arse here to deal with this yourself. Sucks not to have opposable thumbs, doesn’t it?” Louis snarked back, wiggling his thumbs tauntingly at the dog.

 

The dog let out a huff and thumped his wet tail on the ground impatiently.

 

Louis snorted and rubbed a hand over his own wet face. What the fuck was he doing? It was five bloody thirty and he was standing in the rain talking to a dog like it could understand him. Clearly the dog wasn’t the only stupid one.

 

“Okay let’s get you sorted, mate,” he said, reaching out tentatively with both hands to help free the dog’s head. Louis was surprised when the dog cooperated unfailingly, letting Louis maneuver its big head around until he could work it free of the bars.

 

When their struggle was finished, Louis fully expected the mutt to take off running, but instead, it sat down on the pavement again and cocked its head at Louis as if to say, “ _So what now?_ ”

 

“You can’t possibly expect I am going to let you into my home after you tried to break in like a criminal,” he told it.

 

The dog merely cocked its head to the other side.

 

“No. Go on. Shoo!” Louis said, throwing his hands out. “Go away, mutt.”

 

The dog’s entire frame slumped at that. His head dropped and he started to let out a pitiful whine, looking up at Louis through his doggy lashes. Soaked to the core and shivering, the dog then started to limp around in a circle, lifting one of its front paws up as if it were injured.

 

“You bloody faker!” Louis accused. “Your paw is fine.”

 

The dog put the paw down and then fell to its side, playing dead. It writhed around on the ground as if it had been shot, putting on an award winning performance for an audience of one.

 

“Jesus Christ. Only in Hollywood. Everyone - even the fucking stray dogs - are struggling actors.”

 

The dog lifted its head up to look at Louis, wondering, “ _Was that good enough?_ ”

 

Louis tipped his face up, rain pouring down over him. “Fiiiiiiine,” he sighed.

 

The dog popped up from the ground, imaginary wounds miraculously recovered, and spun in a tight little excited circle, chasing its tail. Louis opened the gate and was immediately met by a wet ball of fur knocking him to the ground.

 

“Get off!” he hollered, shoving until he was free. “I let you in and this is the thanks I get?”

 

One more long, sloppy lick was bestowed upon his cheek before the beast backed off and let Louis stand. Louis glared down at the mutt. The dog grinned back at him, tail wagging again.

 

“Come on then,” Louis said with a wave of his hand, trudging back to the house with the dog circling him happily and nipping at his heels. Louis didn’t even have the energy to swat at him when the dog tried to nudge his hand for another pet.

 

Once they were back through the front door, Louis realized his mistake.

 

He should have come in through the mud room.

 

Because that was what that room was _for_. Mud. It was even in the name.

 

The living room couch was _not_ where mud belonged. But that’s where it ended up as the dog hurtled itself onto the pale, expensive fabric and made itself at home.

 

“Off!” Louis shrieked, running to stop the dog from causing more damage. The dog looked at Louis’ approaching frame and decided they must be playing a game of chase, because the next thing Louis knew there were muddy paw - and foot - prints all over the living room carpet before Louis finally corralled the dog into the kitchen.

 

They were both panting when the game was done.

 

“You are going to be in _so_ much fucking trouble when Harry wakes up,” Louis warned the dog.

 

It had the good sense to look a bit frightened.

 

“Now what am I gonna do with you?” Louis mused, watching as the dog started to take interest in its surroundings. It seemed content to explore the kitchen, so Louis figured it was probably safe to leave it for a few moments to go retrieve his phone to get some help. While the dog was sniffing around the legs of the table, Louis snuck out the kitchen door, closing it behind him, and hurried back to the master bedroom. He crept across the carpet and snatched his phone from his bedside nightstand, hurrying back out again so as not to wake Harry.

 

He immediately opened the Whatsapp group chat marked “OT4” and scrolled past a string of messages from Niall in all caps without bothering to read them, tapping out his own message to the group.

 

**SOS! HELP!**

 

Louis was not surprised when he saw _Liam “Not a Lad” Payne_ was typing. He would be up at this ungodly hour. Even worse, he was probably _working out_. Ugh.

 

**Louis. I am not falling for that one again. Last time you said there was a burglar in your house, it turned out to be Niall. Just give him some food and he’ll go away. I’m not coming over.**

 

Another message from Liam a moment later...

 

**And Niall? If you’re reading this? Go home. And buy your own food. You are going to get your key privileges revoked if you keep this up.**

 

Louis rolled his eyes. Liam was going to get himself kicked out of the OT4 chat...again. But first Louis needed him.

 

**Mate, this time it’s not a Niall related emergency. I’ve got a problem.**

 

Liam was typing back instantaneously.

 

**I swear to god if you tell me you pulled a hip flexor having kinky sex with Harry again I’m rage quitting this chat. And possibly the band.**

 

Louis nearly threw him out of the chat first to save him the trouble.

 

**You fucking dick. My hip flexors are just fine, thank you very much. I have a real problem. There’s a stray dog in our kitchen right now. I found it in the rain and now it’s in our house and I don’t know what to do.**

 

Liam didn’t text back his response because he was calling instead.

 

Louis picked up right away, “I hate you,” was his opening line.

 

“ _It’s mutual. Now tell me about the dog_ ,” Liam said.

 

Louis regaled Liam of the tale of saving the stupid mongrel as he marched back to the kitchen, scratching at his bare stomach over the band of his sodden joggers. Liam listened patiently before he asked, “ _So where is it now?_ ”

 

“It’s in the kitchen?” Louis answered. He’d already told Liam that.

 

“ _And where are you?_ ”

 

“Uh. In the living room?” Louis said looking around. Where else was he supposed to be?

 

“ _You can’t just leave a stray dog alone in your house!_ ” Liam blurted out, voice shrill.

 

“Why not?” Louis asked, rounding the hallway back to the kitchen.

 

When he got inside, he had his answer.

 

It looked like a tornado had hit their previously pristine kitchen. The cabinet drawers had all been opened, contents spilling out to the floor. The garbage can was upended, remnants of leftover spaghetti smeared across the tile. The wallpaper on one of the walls was torn up from the baseboard, leaving a strip of bare white wall beneath it. Every surface of the room was covered in speckles of dirt, the effects of a muddy shake off.

 

And at the center of the disaster was the demon beast itself, its head entirely stuffed in a bag of Cheetos.

 

Louis was speechless.

 

“Two minutes,” he whispered. “I was gone for _two minutes_.”

 

The dog ripped its head out of the bag, munching happily with orange dust all over its fur.

 

“ _Louis?_ ” Liam asked.

 

“Never mind about the dog. It’s no longer a problem,” Louis said through clenched teeth, reaching out his hand that wasn’t holding the phone for the block of butcher knives on the counter.

 

The dog’s eyes widened, and then it went running again.

 

“Come back here you fucking _demon_!” Louis yelled, chasing it. But his foot caught on a patch of spaghetti covered tile and he went down in a pinwheeling heap.

 

Louis howled in pain, clutching his sore elbow as he writhed on the floor. Liam’s tinny voice could be heard asking if everything was okay from where the phone had landed a foot away. Louis couldn’t move to get it because suddenly he was surrounded by fur, the dog pinning him to the floor and licking him in concern.

 

“Off! Off!” Louis commanded. It took a wrestling match before he was finally free.

 

He picked the phone back up, frowning at the new crack in the screen.

 

“Liam? I’ve got to let you go. I’m calling the local pound,” Louis huffed into the phone.

 

Liam gasped. “ _But Tommo! Do you know what they do to dogs at the pound?_ ”

 

The dog started shaking, hearing the conversation subject. It retreated under the kitchen table, quivering in fear. Louis was having a hard time feeling sorry for it after what it had done to his kitchen. But when it started to whimper again, he was reminded of how pathetic and needy it looked stuck out in the rain. He took a second to really observe the creature now, and started to see all the signs of neglect. It looked too skinny, fur matted down with rain. And there _did_ seem to be something wrong with one of its paws, despite the previous theatrics outside. But it was the eyes that really made Louis pause. Big and blue and so bloody familiar that Louis thought for a moment that he must have seen this dog before. Maybe it was a neighbor’s dog? That must be it. It had gotten loose and was just trying to get back home, but all the mansions in the area had similar gates and it had probably gotten confused. But then there was no visible tag identifying its owner. Curious.

 

Louis sighed, scrubbing a hand down his face.

 

“What am I supposed to do?” Louis asked.

 

“ _First thing’s first, some food and water,_ ” Liam said, matter of factly.

 

Louis rolled his eyes. “It already ate a bag of Cheetos and the entirety of leftover dinner from last night from the rubbish bin. But a bit of water might be good, yeah.”

 

He moved to the sink, keeping watch on the dog from the corner of his eye while he filled a cereal bowl with water. He set it down and then stepped back, waiting.

 

The dog eyed the water bowl suspiciously from his place cowering under the table. Louis waved a frustrated hand. “Oh come on. I haven’t poisoned it. And I promise I’m not going to trick you into coming out just to take you into the pound. Just have a drink.”

 

Liam chuckled over the phone.

 

“Don’t you start,” Louis told him, watching as the dog clumsily army crawled across the floor to the water bowl. “It understands me.”

 

“ _Sure it does_ ,” Liam said.

 

“I swear! It’s probably someone’s pet. It understands commands like _‘Sit’_ already. And it’s not...totally unfortunate looking. Someone must love it.”

 

The dog perked up at the compliment, tail wagging, butt right along with it.

 

“Oh don’t flatter yourself,” Louis told it. “Someone probably loves you, but _I_ certainly don’t. Now just drink the bloody water and be happy I’m still allowing you in my house after what you just pulled.”

 

The dog put its head down and lapped at the water until it was entirely gone, knocking at the empty bowl with a paw when it was drained as if to ask for more. Louis kind of felt sorry for it, then. Who knew when it last had anything proper to eat or drink?

 

“Shit,” Louis groaned.

 

“ _What?_ ” Liam asked.

 

“I think I’ve just become a dog owner.”

 

Liam cackled. “Welcome to the club. Now Watson can have a playmate!”

 

Louis thought of Liam’s mammoth dog and decided that was not happening because Watson would just sit on Louis’ dog and probably crush it to death. And fuck...he was already starting to think of it as _his_ dog. This was _so_ not good.

 

“You keep that horse in a dog costume away from me and the mutt, Liam. I’m hanging up now. I’ll keep you updated,” he told Liam.

 

“Ha. Have fun, Dog Dad. I expect cigars next time I see you.”

 

“I’ll tell you where you can stick a cigar,” Louis said as his goodbye before hanging up.

 

He tossed the phone carelessly on the counter and looked back down at the dog, who was looking right back up at him.

 

Another thought occurred to him.

 

“Do you have a name?” he asked it, for a moment thinking it might respond considering it was scarily expressive and adept at understanding him.

 

The dog just loped forward and sat on Louis’ foot, tail wagging. It still had Cheeto dust on its snout.

 

“Maybe that’s what I’ll call you. Cheeto.”

 

The dog wrinkled its nose in distaste. As if that were normal behavior for a dog.

 

“Well, if you don’t like it, come up with something else. Until you do, I’m calling you Cheeto. And in the meantime, we should probably see about removing the actual Cheeto residue from your face if you want to remain in this house when Harry wakes up.”

 

The mere mention of Harry’s name sent the dog - now officially dubbed Cheeto - into an absolute frenzy. He yipped and danced, spinning in circles again. Louis watched in utter astonishment. This must be the weirdest dog on the face of the planet.

 

“Alright then. You’re a Harry Styles fan, eh?” he asked. Cheeto barked back, tongue lolling out again. “Maybe we’ve got more in common than I thought. That’s one point in your favor, mutt. But just one. Now come on. Let’s get you cleaned up, and then we’ll take care of your mess in the kitchen.”

 

Cheeto followed him as he left the kitchen, panting happily. They took a brief detour to the upstairs bathroom to grab some of Harry’s organic shampoo before heading down to the laundry room. Twenty minutes later, Louis was covered in more suds than the dog.

 

“Just. Hold. Still!” Louis begged as Cheeto tried to snap at the stream of water from the hose attached to the faucet. The entire floor around the laundry tub was covered in spilled water and suds, because Cheeto had spent more time shaking water off his coat than actually getting clean. Louis had stripped down to his briefs at this point because his joggers had basically been falling off they were so heavy with water. He was contemplating crawling up into the bloody tub himself just to hold the dog still enough to scrub some shampoo in his fur. Cheeto had no interest in getting clean, it seemed. He was alternatively _very_ interested in trying to ingest as much soap suds as possible, starting a ridiculous string of doggy hiccups.

 

By the end of bath time, Louis was sitting in the tub. The dog was running wet laps around the laundry room. The smell of citrus did little to mask the stench of musky dog. And it was becoming abundantly clear to Louis that he was in way over his head.

 

xxxxx

 

When Harry finally awoke two hours later, Louis had pretty much set the house right again. He’d washed the floor, cleaned the walls, taken out the trash, scrubbed the carpet and sofa cushions, and brushed Cheeto’s fur with Harry’s hairbrush until it looked presentable enough to make him a potential pet. By the time Louis heard the upstairs toilet flush, he had already relayed the same speech three times.

 

He figured it was probably wise to rehash it a fourth time. Just in case.

 

Louis turned to the dog and pointed at him in warning. “Listen here, mutt. You better be on your best behaviour for my boy, do you understand? One growl. One snap. One shifty look. And it’s right to the fucking pound. Do not pass go. Do not collect $200. And let me just inform you that the movie lied. All dogs do _not_ go to Heaven. Especially ones with your track record. Got it?”

 

Cheeto let out a snort and then proceeded to start making a choking sound as if he were pretending to vomit.

 

“What the fu -” Louis started, but a deep voice called out from upstairs, causing his mouth to snap shut.

 

“Louis? Is that you? Are you okay?”

 

Louis wheeled around in time to see Harry descending the stairs, hair a messy tangle and tattooed chest on full display. Louis straightened up, and he felt a wet nose nudge against the back of his knees from where the dog was now hiding.

 

“Morning, love,” Louis chirped.

 

“Mornin’, babe.”

 

Harry ambled forward, still a little sleep groggy. In his slightly impaired state, he didn’t have a prayer of seeing what was coming as the dog darted out from behind Louis to literally tackle him to the ground as if they were long lost mates.

 

Harry yelped in surprise. Louis was ready to grab his keys and head straight to the pound, previous threats obviously having fallen on deaf ears.

 

But then Harry’s surprised shout turned into happy giggles as Cheeto started to attack his face in puppy kisses.

 

Louis watched the scene unfold, unsure what to do. A minute later, Harry was still sprawled out on the floor with Cheeto curled happily in his lap.

 

Harry’s eyes were wide and a bit shiny as he looked up at Louis. Louis knew that look. It was the one he’d gotten when he had finally mustered up the courage to ask Harry to officially be his boyfriend all those years ago. It was the one he’d gotten when they had won their first industry award, played at the Olympics, headlined at Wembley, met Mick Jagger. It was the one he’d gotten when he’d proposed to Harry last summer.

 

Louis was gone for that look. He would do anything for it. He was powerless under its heady influence.

 

So… “Surprise?” Louis said meekly.

 

Harry grabbed Louis’ hand and tugged him down to the ground where he started to lay his own flurry of wet kisses against Louis’ cheeks. Cheeto took it as an invitation to wiggle his way between them and join in on the fun.

 

“Oi! The pair of you! Stop!” Louis wheezed, shoving away limbs and tails until he was free from the literal dog pile.

 

“I can’t believe it!” Harry finally said, “I thought you said you didn’t want a dog, what with our schedule being so unpredictable. You know how badly I wanted one. But this is a big commitment. Are you sure, Lou?”

 

Louis looked down at the dog. Then at Harry again. Fuck. Those god-damned Bambi eyes. Now he had two pairs of them to contend with, one green and one blue. Louis was screwed.

 

“Course I’m sure,” Louis answered, trying to sound it. “Besides, I didn’t really have much of a choice.”

 

“What do you mean?” Harry asked, hand still running through Cheeto’s fur. Cheeto’s eyes were practically crossed in bliss, tail thumping steadily.

 

“Found him. Outside this morning. He got stuck in the gate. Literally got his head stuck.”

 

Harry’s eyes got wet again. “Baby. You _rescued_ him?” he asked.

 

Oh shit. Louis did not deserve that reverence. The kind that said he was some kind of hero in Harry’s eyes.

 

“Um. Yes?”

 

Cheeto’s eyes narrowed, knowing the truth. Harry buried his face in Cheeto’s fur, overcome with emotion. Louis motioned “lips zipped” to the dog while Harry’s attention was diverted. The dog merely snorted again, but kept his secrets none-the-less.

 

Louis nodded in mutual understanding. He figured it was probably the dog’s way of paying him back for busting out the carpet cleaner just an hour ago to help his cause for gaining Harry’s affection and subsequent adoption.

 

“Who’s a good boy?” Harry asked in a silly baby voice, scratching the dog behind his ear. The dog’s leg started to rhythmically twitch. “So lucky to have such a good dog daddy. Saved you, didn’t he? We love him, don’t we? Even though he did use my expensive, imported, organic shampoo to get you clean.”

 

Louis couldn’t help but melt. So now he had a new title to add to his growing resume.

 

 _Son. Brother. Friend. Footballer. Prankster. Recording artist. Fianc_ _é_ _. Dog Daddy._

 

“Trust me, you would not have liked the alternative fragrance he was sporting. If he’s staying, I’ll have to run out to the shops to pick up a few things for him,” Louis finally said. “I'll pick up more of your shampoo too. And some dog version for him.”

 

But Harry wasn’t paying attention. He was too caught up in doling out kisses and pets to their new family member.

 

With a kiss to Harry’s messy curls and a flick to Cheeto’s nose, Louis was off to the nearest pet store to see about outfitting their house with the necessities.

 

An hour - and three hundred dollars - later, Louis was back to the house lugging a giant bag of dog food and a sack of other pet related paraphernalia into the house. Harry was no longer in the living room with Cheeto where Louis had left them. But he could hear the sounds of music playing from the kitchen, accompanied by the deep baritone of Harry’s lovely voice and the ear splitting howls of their new housemate.

 

Louis followed the sounds of Elvis crooning about hounddogs into the kitchen. Harry was cooking breakfast, dancing around the kitchen in his favorite apron gifted to him by Niall - the one with buxom female anatomy in a bikini depicted on the front - with the dog weaving in and out of his feet, throwing his head back every so often to let out an unearthly howl along with The King.

 

Louis dropped the bag of food on the ground. Both heads snapped up to look at him.

 

“Hello, Elvis the Pelvis.”

 

Harry squawked out a laugh. Cheeto barked that weird cackling noise again.

 

“Hi, Priscilla,” Harry teased back with a poorly coordinated hip thrust. Then he looked down at the dog. “That makes you Lisa Marie, mate.”

 

“About that. His name is…”

 

“Craic,” Harry said at the same time Louis said, “Cheeto.”

 

“What?” they both said.

 

“Louis. You can’t name our dog after processed junk food,” Harry admonished.

 

“Why not? He likes them. And besides, it’s better than _Craic_. Where on Earth did you come up with that?”

 

“Just look at him!” Harry said, pointing to the dog. The dog stood proudly under his attention. “Blond hair. Blue eyes. Always happy. Gimpy leg. Eats anything. Who does that remind you of?”

 

Suddenly it struck Louis. Why the dog had looked so familiar.

 

“Oh my god,” he lamented. “I brought the dog version of Niall into our house.”

 

The dog started barking loudly, jumping up and down on the spot, finally putting his front paws up on Louis’ chest to attack his face with more kisses.

 

Louis shoved him off. “Stop that, Cheeto!”

 

“Craic,” Harry corrected. The dog barked in agreement.

 

“Cheeto,” Louis retorted. The dog growled.

 

“See? He likes Craic better,” Harry said proudly.

 

“Fine. Whatever. But I’m going to call him Lisa Marie just to piss him off,” Louis said, pursing his lips at the dog. He earned himself a little nip at his bare ankle. “Wanker,” he muttered. “See if you get anything from this bag after that kind of behavior.”

 

“Oh! What did you get?” Harry asked, abandoning breakfast to pour over Louis’ purchases. He and the dog - now _Craic_...rest in peace Cheeto - tore through the bag of goodies. In seconds, the dog had a tennis ball in his mouth, slobbering all over it. Harry tried to tug it free to play fetch, but Craic was not giving it up.

 

“Possessive little thing, isn’t he?” Harry asked as Craic skittered around the room with his new toy, chomping down on it until it started squeaking. He stopped dead in his tracks at the sound. Then he was relentless. Louis could already feel the migraine coming on.

 

“There’s also this,” Louis said, holding up a collar and leash duo in a pretty emerald green. He’d chosen it because he figured it would look nice against the dog’s fair fur. The dog’s eyes widened when he saw it and then he was dropping the tennis ball and jumping up and down again.

 

“Oh. Looks like someone has to go outside,” Harry commented. “Why don’t you two get better acquainted while I finish breakfast. Take a bag with you, love. For his business.”

 

Louis frowned down at Craic who was cackle barking again. “Great. Now in addition to dealing with your shit, I’ve got to pick it up too? The life you have already.”

 

But like the good fiancé he was, Louis dutifully did dog walking duty without complaint, leaving Harry in the kitchen to finish breakfast. At least the weather had cleared, no longer down pouring.

 

“Okay, buddy. Come on, let’s go outside!” Louis said as he and the dog headed to the front door.

 

Unfortunately, it took a solid ten minutes to wrangle Craic into his new collar because he was so excited about it he kept spinning in circles. When Louis finally had him leashed up and ready to go, he was already sweating from exertion. Fifteen minutes later, he felt like he’d run a marathon after their walk - or sprint, more accurately. The dog had basically dragged Louis for a solid half mile chasing a rabbit he caught sight of the minute they left the gates of the house. And when he’d finished with the chase, poor little critter forgotten, he’d played up the old war wound again, limping on his paw and pretending as if he wasn’t able to go on in life, let alone the walk. Louis had been forced to alternate between dragging his prone hide and carrying him most of the distance back home. The worst part was that the dog hadn’t even bothered to squat down to take a shit or even lift his leg to a tree in all the action. And all that hard work in the laundry tub had gone to shit now considering that dragging the dog had left him covered in mud again and Louis drenched in sweat from the effort. This time, Louis was smart enough to enter through the designated room for such messes. Harry should consider himself lucky to have such a considerate and loving future spouse.

 

Louis hung up Craic’s leash by the door and sighed at the thought that he was likely going to have to start doing this a few times a day now. At least he’d get his daily dose of fitness in. He felt like he’d just played a match of footie. The damn dog looked no worse for wear, and his leg had - again - miraculously recovered.

 

“You’re such a little shit,” Louis snapped. “Why didn’t you poop on the walk?” The dog looked up at him and then proceeded to squad down and drop a load right on the Welcome Home mat.

 

Louis really should be more careful with what he asked for.

 

xxxxx

 

After that things continued to get more and more strange in the Tomlinson-Styles household as their new furry friend settled into their life. His first day with them was quite the adventure.

 

It started with his kibble. Louis had splurged and bought the most expensive dog food on the shelf when he’d gone to the shops that morning. He’d painstakingly read the ingredients on the label that boasted about its superiority over its competitors. It was advertised as being the best tasting and most healthy option for dogs of Craic’s breed and size.

 

Of course, Craic refused to eat it. Harry excitedly poured a heaping bowl of it and set it down for him, standing beside Louis to watch their dog ingest his first meal. The dog sniffed at it and then upended the entire thing across the kitchen floor, spilling kibbles and bits everywhere, before walking right out of the kitchen in revulsion.

 

But Louis needn’t have feared about Craic’s caloric intake. A few hours later after Louis had run to the nearest In ‘N Out for some burgers for lunch, Louis had made the fatal mistake of leaving the take out food bags on the kitchen counter for a moment while he went off to tell Harry lunch had arrived. They came back down to the kitchen to see Craic standing on the counter surrounded by torn open paper bags and the remnants of their burgers coating his snout. He licked his chops at them and then hopped off the table as if nothing was amiss.

 

Twenty minutes later, Craic thanked them for their thoughtfulness in bringing him lunch by throwing up on the carpet under the coffee table. And then again on Louis’ side of the bed.

 

With his stomach empty, Craic then decided that it was time to go to work on Harry’s shoes. Harry made the mistake this time in bringing the dog upstairs with him while he did some housework. He left the dog unattended for about ten minutes while he cleaned the master bathroom to find his entire collection of Chelsea boots entirely torn to shreds. The Nikes were suspiciously left unharmed, and had been carefully transported into Craic’s new bed.

 

And then there was the obsession with balls. Golf balls. Soccer balls. Ping pong balls. Footballs. Louis’ balls. Harry’s balls. The dog thought it was completely acceptable to ram his head into their crotches whenever he wanted attention, bringing the latest piece of sports equipment he’d found, trying to get them to play.

 

He also had a serious aversion to going to the bathroom outside like a normal dog. Louis took him on at least five more walks the rest of the day, but each one was no different than the first. The minute they got back in the house, the dog dropped and did his business. He was also fond of leaving them puddles of piss around the house for them to accidentally step in. That was always a fun surprise.

 

By the time dinner was done, Craic again refusing his own bowl in lieu of begging pitifully for table scraps, Louis was seriously regretting the decision to bring the monster mongrel into their house this morning. But every time he was on the verge of mentioning the _p-o-u-n-d_ again, Harry would get that look in his eye and Louis would crumble.

 

Despite all the mischief - and Harry’s ruined shoes - he and Craic had become instantly thick as thieves. Craic was Harry’s little shadow, following him everywhere, never leaving his side. Louis found it a bit bloody offensive, to be honest, considering it had been _him_ who saved the damn mutt this morning. But Craic’s allegiance had been made clear. Louis got the message. He really hadn’t needed Craic to shit in his favorite Vans to further prove that point. The dog had done it anyway.

 

When they popped in a movie that night - the latest Avengers one - and curled up on the couch to watch it, Craic had wiggled himself in between them, head in Harry’s lap and arse in Louis’. He then passed out after his strenuous day doing dog-ly things, snoring so loudly that they could barely hear the movie. Louis’ legs had gone numb under the dog’s deceptively fat arse, but Harry had looked so damned content that Louis hadn’t the heart to shove the dog off. He suffered through two hours of pins and needles in his toes because he loved Harry more than he loved his own lower extremity circulation. Small sacrifices.

 

When the movie was over, Harry looked down wistfully at their new pet, still sound asleep. “Isn’t he great, Lou?” Harry sighed, scratching his fingers behind the dog’s ears and then rubbing his tummy. The dog shifted in his sleep and then let out a long, squeaking fart. Louis was unfortunately down wind of it.

 

“Yeah, he’s something, alright,” Louis said, trying not to breathe in the dog’s chemical weaponry. He should probably invest in a hazmat suit or at least a gas mask.

 

He was about to say as much when Harry’s dreamy smile started to get a bit more heated. And that was another look Louis knew quite well. Louis was definitely on board with where it was heading. Maybe he could tolerate the mutt if it meant a few extra brownie points - and blow jobs - from Harry.

 

With considerable effort, they extricated themselves from underneath Craic’s slumbering form, leaving him on the couch. Harry lovingly covered him with a blanket, as if he didn’t have a fur coat, and then they quietly padded up to their bedroom for some canine-free between the sheets action. Well maybe not entirely canine-free. Harry was quite fond of doing it doggy style, claiming it was the view of Louis’ arse presented so perfectly before him that spoke to his more animalistic urges. Louis wasn’t about to protest. Harry fucking him into the mattress was definitely high up on his list of favorite bedroom activities too.

 

They undressed quickly and efficiently after years of practice until they were spilling into their bed, already tangled together. When Harry peeled down Louis’ boxers, Louis sighed and lifted his hips to help the cause. Harry guided Louis’ hips up until he was on his hands and knees and then splayed his giant hands over Louis’ arse, kneading his muscles and making Louis groan.

 

Louis shook his arse a little to get things going, which only prompted Harry to grip his hips harder to keep him in place.

 

“Fuck, Hazza, come on.”

 

Louis felt the sharp sting of teeth against the flesh of his arse in warning to behave. Louis bit the pillow, but couldn’t stop the thrust of his hips as Harry started tracing over his entrance with a single finger.

 

“God, so hot like this,” Harry moaned, removing his finger for a moment, only to return with two instead. He slid them inside slowly, curling them once they were down to the last knuckle.

 

Louis gasped into his down feathers.

 

“Like this, Lou?” Harry growled. Louis rolled his hip again, earning a playful smack that made his bum jiggle. Harry groaned watching it shake. Then he grazed Louis’ spot and smacked the other cheek too.

 

Harry continued to tease Louis this way, slowly opening him until he was absolutely wild for it, ready to growl and snap if Harry didn’t _put it_ _in_ within the next five fucking seconds.

 

Louis turned his head to the side to voice his complaints, grinding back on Harry’s prodding fingers. But his pleas were lost to the sound of Harry panting in his ear, breath heavy and wet against Louis’ neck.

 

But wait...Louis couldn’t feel Harry’s chest pressed to his back like it should be so that meant…

 

“Jesus Christ!” Louis hissed, opening his eyes and seeing Craic’s stupid face only centimeters from his own with the dog’s chin resting on the edge of the mattress.

 

Watching them.

 

“Gah!” Harry yelped, throwing himself down over Louis’ back, as if to protect Louis’ modesty. _Ever the gentleman._ Harry yanked up the blanket over them, still crushing Louis beneath him.

 

Louis wheezed, trying to catch his breath as he squirmed beneath his naked fiancé. Harry’s dick, still raging hard, was poking uncomfortably into his back when it belonged up his arse instead. Louis threw a hand out to bat the dog’s face away, but the dog just licked his palm and continued to stare at them.

 

“Fuck, Harry. Just...keep going. Come on. He doesn’t know what he’s looking at.”

 

Craic started yipping. Then he put his front paws up on the mattress and started to vigorously hump the side of the bed.

 

“Like hell he doesn’t!” Harry shot back, horrified. “No! Craic! Stop that. Bad boy! Bad dog!”

 

And there went Louis’ erection. He slumped into the mattress and groaned.

 

“Cock block,” Louis muttered, shoving a foot out to knock the dog off the bed. Another dog fart was his payback.

 

The dog started barking and then merrily trotted out of the room.

 

“Do you still wanna -”

 

“No,” Louis sighed. “Mood is shot to hell now.”

 

Harry sighed too, his own softening length still pressed to Louis’ back.

 

“Rain check?” Harry asked.

 

“After we bloody crate train that hellspawn,” Louis answered. “I’m getting him a cage tomorrow morning. At dawn.”

 

Harry snorted, pressing a kiss to the back of Louis’ neck. “Hey,” he whispered against Louis’ damp skin. He slid off of Louis’ body and curled up against his side, tugging his arms until Louis was the big spoon. As per.

 

“Yeah?” Louis breathed once his arms were wrapped around Harry’s chest, face buried in his wild curls.

 

“I love you,” Harry returned. “And I love that you are letting me keep the dog even though he’s...kind of a handful.”

 

From downstairs, the sound of a horror movie howl echoed through the house.

 

“But he’s our handful,” Louis said longsufferingly.

 

“Right. Ours.”

 

They both fell asleep to the sounds of their dog baying at the moon until he too fell fast asleep in his new house.

 

xxxxx

 

The next morning, Louis awoke to hair in his face. This wasn’t unusual, given his fiancé’s mane of glorious curls, but when Louis breathed in deep, he only caught a hint of the usual citrus scent that usually accompanied having Harry’s hair unwittingly in his face.

 

The hair currently obscuring his vision wasn’t the chocolate shade Louis was used to either. It was blond. And smelled like farts.

 

“Oh for the love of Christ,” Louis groaned, shoving at Craic’s heavy dog body until he rolled over and off of Louis.

 

Craic wasn’t deterred. He just scooted closer until his head was buried into Louis’ chest, stinky dog breath warm against Louis’ bare skin.

 

Louis had to admit that this was kind of...nice. He usually woke up cold in the mornings when Harry left the bed and went for his morning runs. Louis didn’t particularly mind a warm, soft body to snuggle, even if it meant putting up with a certain unpleasant odor.

 

Louis curled back into the mattress and tugged the blanket up over them, burying his hands in Craic’s fur and going right back to sleep. He figured Harry would be more than willing to crawl back under the covers with them for a weekend snooze when he got back. Which is exactly what he did.

 

Maybe this dog business wasn’t so bad after all. Day two was starting off pretty okay so far.

 

xxxxx

 

Fall Sundays were about two things in the Styles-Tomlinson household. Watching Green Bay games and hosting cookouts for their local friends. Louis was currently manning the grill while Harry, Rande, Cal, James and Ed shouted at the big screen television they’d set up on the back patio, cursing as the Bears got a run back that tied them up with Harry’s beloved Packers.

 

Harry was hollering about the lack of tackling, and Craic was barking at the TV too, as if he understood what a fuck up that last play had been.

 

Louis rolled his eyes at the pair of them.

 

“I still can’t believe you two got a dog,” Liam said from where he was standing next to Louis at the grill, _supervising_...or so he said. Really it was just a learned means to get first pick of the hot dogs and burgers before Niall attacked them the moment they were set down on the table. But Niall wasn’t here today. Louis had texted him, to no answer in return, figuring he must be out on the golf course. Or maybe he’d fucked off to Fiji or something. Who knew where that lad went? Louis wasn’t even entirely sure he was human most days. Louis had serious suspicions about him being some kind of Irish supernatural being. Harry’s money was on a Leprechaun. Louis’ was on a Clurichaun. More mischief. More drunkenness.

 

“I told you, he found us. I didn’t have the heart to throw him out. And Harry is already smitten. I can’t get rid of him now.”

 

Liam just grinned, wide and knowing. “Admit it.”

 

“Admit what?”

 

“Harry isn’t the only one attached to the little scruff ball.”

 

Louis shook his head immediately, snapping his metal tongs at Liam’s face. “No. Absolutely not.”

 

“You love him. It’s okay. You’re a dog person. No shame in it.”

 

“Lies!” Louis hissed, flipping a burger. But while he was going to flip the next in the row, something hit the back of his knees, and the burger went flying off the grill mid flip. Craic was thankfully there to catch it before it even hit the ground.

 

“Damnit,” Louis muttered. “That’s the last one you get!” he told the dog. “You’ve already had two hot dogs today! You steal any more and I’ll put _your_ arse on this grill and we’ll see how hot a dog can get.”

 

Liam was laughing next to him. “Thank god Nialler’s not here or there would be none left for us between the two of them. Speaking of, where is he?”

 

“Dunno,” Louis shrugged. “He hasn’t answered my texts. I’m sure he’s fine. Probably doing what Niall does best. Drinking, eating, charming and laughing his way through life. Ruling small countries. Taking part in dangerous games of espionage. Collecting ugly hats. Posting closet selfies. Watching his chest hair grow. Who knows with that one.”

 

“He’ll pop up when he’s hungry again,” Liam joked.

 

Louis was quick to avert another lost burger, seeing Craic’s attempt coming this time considering he was the least subtle dog on the planet.

 

“Oh No, Craic! What are you gonna do now?” Louis teased, holding a burger just out of his reach. Craic angrily watched him for a moment and then raised his leg and pissed right on Louis’ shoes.

 

Louis looked up at the sky as everyone around him laughed at his misfortune.

 

“Alright. Point to you,” Louis admitted, giving him the burger.

 

Craic ended up with another hot dog and two more burgers in his stomach by the end of the game and half a bottle of beer that he happened to knock over and hurriedly lap up. The Packers won by 2 points. And despite the occasional dog related disasters, Louis couldn’t remember a more perfect Fall day.

 

xxxxx

 

When they went to sleep that night, they let Craic crawl up in the bed with them since he’d behaved for the rest of the evening while they entertained their guests, unfortunate accident with Ed’s guitar aside.

 

With their snoring dog between them, hands joined in petting his fur, they fell asleep together with smiles on all three of their faces.

 

xxxxx

 

When Louis awoke the next morning, blond hair was in his face yet again. He wasn’t alarmed about it this time, until he went to go scratch Craic’s furry body, only to find skin in its place.

 

He jolted up and shouted in alarm when he saw Niall curled up naked, sleeping in the spot wedged between he and Harry where just hours ago their dog had fallen asleep. Niall scratched at his head, in an oddly familiar way and then blinked his eyes open. He took in his surroundings for a moment, looking first at Louis’ horrified face, then at Harry’s slowly waking form, and finally down at his own naked skin.

  
“Hey, lads,” he said yawned casually, rubbing a hand over his eyes. He ran the other through his blond bed head, taking a moment to itch at the spot behind his ear, leg twitching automatically along with his scratching. “I had the craziest dream last night. What’s for breakfast?”

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even know. My love for Niall has lead to strange places. Like this.
> 
> Leave a comment if you feel so inclined, or come say hello on Tumblr (RealityBetterThanFiction)!
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Cheers 
> 
> xoxo


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